


Under Strange Stars

by Erulisse



Category: TOLKIEN J. R. R. - Works, The Lord of the Rings - J. R. R. Tolkien
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-03-23
Updated: 2014-03-23
Packaged: 2018-01-16 19:00:35
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 7
Words: 697
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1358407
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Erulisse/pseuds/Erulisse
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It is said that Aragorn travelled under strange stars as he was learning his trade. Here are some exploits of the future king in a far, desert land explored through a series of drabbles based upon the ingredients in mulled wine.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. The Dancing Girl

**Author's Note:**

> Disclaimer: Tolkien built the sandbox, I only play with the bucket and shovel that he left for me. No money, profit or non, is made from the publication of this story.

Aragorn inhaled the spicy steam issuing from the goblet he held. "What spice is this?" 

"Cinnamon," the sloe-eyed warm-skinned servant replied. 

"I have never smelled the like before." 

"Taste, effendi. You'll like the flavor." She bared more of her breasts and licked her lips in open invitation. 

He sipped carefully. "It's good!" he exclaimed. 

"It is a treasure of our land." The girl stood, furled her skirts, and prepared to join the musicians entertaining the foreign barbarian. 

"Wait. What is your name?" he asked. 

"I am Cinnamon, Lord," she said, and she began sinuously twisting to the drums' rhythmic sound.


	2. The Mount

“Come, mercenary, meet those you will be riding with.” The Emir stood. He was older and stocky, but wielded absolute rule. Standing outside the tent, his outstretched arm pointed out warriors practicing their skills atop large, humped animals. “Our lands are perhaps different than those you have known. Our oceans are sand; our steeds are adapted to this.” 

“Be careful, they spit,” the Emir warned as they neared the animals in the staging area, approaching an animal with blond-red coloring. “This is Ginger, may she carry you to victory.” 

Aragorn took a deep breath and reached for the camel's bridle.


	3. The Weapon

"A broadsword is the wrong weapon for camelback, mercenary," the Emir instructed. "Here we use weapons to slash and bash - no finesse." He whistled, "Hakim! Bring the mercenary a mace." 

"No, really…" Aragorn stuttered. 

The emir interrupted. "Take it. Do you see those red patches on the mannequins? Bring your camel to a gallop and strike each red mark, left and right. You'll soon see the value of a good mace." 

Aragorn sighed and tested the weapon for balance. Sighting down the row, he urged Ginger to a gallop. "Elendil!" he cried out as he struck his first blow.


	4. The Initiation

Dinner that night was different from the soft pillows and dancing girls of the previous night. He was seated in front of a dung fire surrounded by warriors. A bowl of steaming camel's milk liberally sprinkled with pepper was on the ground directly in front of him. 

The men moved closer. "Drink … drink," they were chanting. 

Aragorn looked questioningly up at Khalil. 

"All who join us must drink of the camel's milk," was the interpreter's reply. 

Aragorn shrugged, picked up the bowl and drank the contents without pause. Cheers sounded as he replaced the empty bowl on the ground.


	5. The Rite of Passage

Warriors often jostled for hierarchical position by bragging about prowess with weaponry and women. Now things had devolved to a pissing contest. Aragorn knew these rites of passage must be endured to earn his troops' respect. 

Hamid, Omar and Aragorn lined up, the others surrounded them. Bets were placed as trousers dropped. At the signal, all three began to urinate, the target a scribed line several feet distant. 

Omar hit closest but commentary centered on Aragorn who looked at his interpreter. “Big balls, like nutmeg,” Khalil explained as he threw a nut at him. Aragorn fought to keep his composure.


	6. Sweet Memories

Aragorn fought as the Emir commanded, while learning about the desert people. He used his mace, rode Ginger confidently, and tracked the Emir's enemies using the stars as guides across the shifting sands. 

His men respected him - the language shared by warriors was universal. He gained allies because of his carefully chosen words, his fighting ability and his justice dispensed fairly in cases of cowardice or aggression. 

Yet he missed his home. _The desert tribes are buzzing bees guarding their hives. I miss the sparkle of sunlit rivers, like sugar crystals in the light. Home is calling me north._


	7. Decision

Aragorn leaned back against his saddle, passing the drinking skin to his left. He recalled the vineyards of the northlands and the bright white and crisp red wines of his youth. He smiled while remembering the carefully nurtured wild grapes of Mirkwood, distilled into the brandies that Thranduil so treasured. 

How he missed the ordered rows of grapes, the mountain snows and the great forests of the north. He sighed. It was time to leave. The mercenary must now disappear and the king in hiding would soon reappear in the north. It was time to tickle the Black Lord's complacency.

**Author's Note:**

> Reviews are always appreciated.


End file.
